Failing all Attempts to Make a Good Title
by Bellatrix567
Summary: Parody of the goings-on in the Glade. Teresa gets three adjectives to describe her skin, Thomas has an extremely dirty mouth, Gally keeps talking about these 'characters' and 'plot arcs,' and Newt is (square root of -1) feet tall. Complete crackfic, no pairings yet. Rated T for lots of language and some gore.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a complete and total parody of Maze Runners. If you are a seriously hardcore fan who doesn't like the basic math and the like being criticized, I do not recommend you read this.**

**It was also written in the dead of night with my eyes closed as I was typing more often than not.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maze Runners. Even MY NaNoWriMo was less selfish than this ending. And my characters didn't just FORGET when their best friend died.**

**YAY!**

"You are now on the ground floor."

The boy jumped at the Google Translate-ine voice that sounded all around him. Then, underneath him, the ground started MOVING!

"Motherfucker!" the boy screamed. Then he stopped. Where was he? This was an...

"Elevator, dear," said the voice. There was a big pause after the word 'dear.' Typical technology these days. "And your name is Thomas," the voice informed him.

Newly named Thomas - because 'the boy' is an incredibly annoying word to type - felt an inexplicable stab of disappointment. Just Thomas?

Wait a second... he realized that he didn't have any memories. He didn't even remember if he was a boy or a girl. Thomas quickly checked his pants to make sure. Yep, there was his penis - it was just a very small penis. Somewhere around the size of his pinkie finger. Oh, well. Looks didn't really matter...

The elevator was still creaking and rising. Some technology these motherfuckers have.

Finally the elevator groaned t o as top. It had taken six hours. Thomas had switched between the act of throwing a tantrum and curling up in the fetal position and bawling for mommy. Once he even crapped his pants.

"You are now on Level Two," the voice announced. A door straight above him opened into fluorescent daylight.

"Ooooh, a mothershucker!" said a voice.

"How many Description Points he gonna get?"

"You kidding? Clint didn't get none, and he's actually rememberable..."

"It smells like KLUNK in there!"

"Can I eat it?"

"No, idiot. Klunk is not for eating. Unless we're gonna banish you. Then you can eat Griever klunk."

"But... but the..."

Thomas blinked in surprise. What the motherhell where these bastards saying? Mothershucker? Klunk?Griever? THE!? What the motherfuck does that mean?

"Hi?" Thomas called up, trying to be friendly. But seriously, these were a pretty scary bunch. They were... kids.

"Hey!" a boy called down. "Here, get on!" A whirring, blue, mechanic ladder descended into the elevator. The moment Thomas touched it, it whirred some more before securing its robot arms around him and brought him safely into a big cluster of boys.

"Um... that was cool," Thomas managed. Then he asked the question burning in his mind. "Why couldn't you get some oil for the elevator if you can get that fancy motherfucker?"

"'Motherfucker'? You got some sort of accent?" asked the boy in front of him.

"Maybe he'll get some more description points then!" another boy yelled.

"I don't have an accent," said Thomas, trying to sound refined in front of all these kids who were clearly ruffians. "Motherfucker is a word, don't you know that?"

"Hey, it's mother shucker. Get your shuck words straight."

"Okay... what are description points?" Thomas asked. He'd already forgot that he had no memory. This new vocabulary was exciting.

"Here, let me show you," said the boy in front of him. The boy had (1) short hair and he was (2) African-American (but we're just gonna say 'black' now because in the last 10 years there had been some serious plate tectonics going on and now there are no longer any actual countries. OOOOOOOHH FEEL THE FORESHADOWING). He was also (3) about 18 years old.

"Um... show me what?" Thomas asked after about fifteen minutes of silence.

"The readers will understand," said another boy. This boy had (1) black hair.

"Shut your hole, Gally!" the first boy yelled. Then he turned back to Thomas. "Hi, I'm Alby. What's your name?"

"Pleased to meet you," Thomas said, sticking out his hand. Alby looked at him like he was nuts. "Uh, I'm Thomas."

"No, he's a GREENBEAN!" someone shouted.

"I told you the term was lima bean, shuckface!"

"No, Chuck, it's greenbean. Shuck, how stupid are you?"

"You guys! Slim it!" another boy yelled. "You're really confusing Thomas here!"

"And confusing the readers," the boy called Gally muttered.

"Thomas is stupid, Newt, he hasn't even picked up on our 'slang,'" Alby said as yet another boy approached.

"No, I think what's wrong with him is that he shows absolutely no bloody emotions about losing his memories," said Newt. "Hi, Thomas, I'm Newt, and I've got more description points than anybody in the bloody glade." Newt was (1) taller than Alby, (2) had long blonde hair, (3) spoke with a British accent/said 'bloody' a lot for the hell of it, (4) limped, and was (5) (the square root of -1) years old.

"Too many parentheses for one sentence," Gally said, seemingly out of the blue.

"Okay, shuckface, it's time for you to go to bed," said Alby. "You've had a long day. I think it's lasted... five minutes. Maybe. Now go find Chuck - he's the only person in the glade younger than sixteen - and he can help you go to sleep. You know, sing you shuck bedtime songs and stuff."

"Okay!" Thomas said happily. He went and found the boy Chuck - description points, (1) he was twelve, (2) he was overweight, (3) he had brown hair, and (4) he had blue eyes. He just didn't get as many adjectives as Newt.

"Hi," said Chuck. "I've been here for a month."

"You have? Have all you also lost your memories?" asked Thomas, as all the fifty other boys walked away.

"Yeah. One person comes every month... been happening for two years now."

"No, Chuck, that's wrong," said a voice. Thomas turned around. It was Gally. Motherfucker.

"No, it's right!" Chuck protested. "Alby and Newt said so!"

"Newt is inconsistent!" Gally yelled. "The math doesn't add up!"

"You're just jealous 'cause he's got more description points than you!" Chuck yelled back. "And you're nuts ever since you went through the Changing."

"Low blow," Thomas muttered. Then he remembered that he didn't know what the Changing is.

"That is improper grammar!" Gally screamed. "And you're mean!" He stomped away, before calling over his shoulder, "You're different, Thomas! You're a mothershucking protagonist!"

"What the motherhell?" Thomas asked. He tried to tone down his bad language habits in front of Chuck. Poor bastard was just a kid, after all.

"He's been talking like that ever since he got stung by a Griever. Says stuff like 'grammar' and 'character development' and 'klunky backstory' and stuff like that," Chuck shrugged.

"Why does everyone use the word 'klunk' or 'shuck'?" Thomas asked. "I even heard someone say the word 'thuh' once. What does that mean?"

"Here, this is a dictionary of our HUGE shuck vocabulary," Chuck said, handing him a piece of paper. It read:

Sexy mother shucking dictionary

shuck = fuck, damn (conjugations: do not add 'ing'. 'shuck' and 'shuck it' are both acceptable. 'shuckface' is also a common insult).

klunk = crap, shit

shank = bitch, bastard (insult to a person)

slim it = shut up

"That's, uh... that's pretty complicated," Thomas said. "I don't think I can memorize all that."

"You have to," said Chuck.

"I don't want to," Thomas complained. "Why can't we just all use our own swear words?"

"'Cuz of the rules, shuckface," said Chuck. "You can only do that if your name is a noun."

"What's a noun? That sounds like one of Gally's words."

"Or was it an animal now? I forget... they're having another Gathering about it soon."

Thomas didn't know what was going on, so he curled up in the fetal position on the grass and went to sleep.

**I've read the entire MR series, was definitely very disappointed, but we needn't get into that right now. I might do a parody of the full books, but don't expect anything about the series. And this isn't my best writing style - parody/crackfics are for when I'm bored and not up to standards on my usual Death Eater fic.**

**And I am making no sense, so I will leave by imploring you to review now. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know it really doesn't seem like it here, but Newt actually is my favorite character - Gally just points out logistics because he went through the Changing.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Maze Runner, Minho and Newt would be described appearance-wise in Scorch Trials beyond being Asian and walking with a limp.**

"Hey, Greenie!"

Thomas groaned and rolled away from the voice. He didn't want to get up; he was used to staying up all night playing video games and then waking up at two. Wait, how did he know this? His memory loss was fascinating, really.

"Shuckface, it's the wake-up!" Someone kicked Thomas in the stomach. He groaned and rolled the other way.

"Should I kick him in the head?" Thomas heard Chuck ask.

"Go ahead."

"Cut him a little slack, Alby. It is his First Day."

"Yay!" Thomas felt Chuck's foot collide with his head. He cried out in pain, curling up even more. Why were the motherfuckers so mean?

"Motherfucker!" Thomas yelled.

"Mothershucker!" someone, probably Alby, yelled back. "Newt, go get some water or something to pour on this shank's head."

"I can get some klunk!" Chuck said excitedly.

"Okay, good. We can spoon-feed it to him until he wakes up."

That got Thomas on his feet. Sure enough, Alby, Newt and Chuck were all standing in front of him, Chuck almost bouncing up and down in totally innocent excitement.

"Whaddayawant?" Thomas asked, yawning.

"You've got some serious bedhead," Chuck told him.

"I do?" Thomas started to get angry. First the fucker kicked him in the head, then he wanted to make him eat crap, and now he was making fun of Thomas' sexy hair. Or was it sexy? He couldn't remember...

"What does my hair even look like?" he asked. "Like, what color is it?"

"Brown," said Chuck. "Klunk brown." He looked Thomas up and down. "And you're about... sixteen, and more than five feet."

"I know that. I'm taller than you, and you're five feet, mother... shucker," Thomas said.

Seemingly out of the blue, Alby turned to Newt. "I call a rematch."

"You already called a rematch," Newt said instantly.

"Yeah? I call another."

"You can't! The deal was two."

"But... they weren't fair."

"How?"

"I was sitting down."

"That's because you were too bloody lazy to get up."

"No, it's because you were too shuck lazy to sit down."

"Sitting down does not take effort!"

Thomas and Chuck stared between them, until Thomas got up the courage to ask, "What the motherhell?"

"Alby doesn't want to give you the Tour," said Newt. "I gave the last three tours, and I beat you all three times!" he said to Alby.

"No, you didn't! You cheated!"

"I didn't bloody cheat!"

"Cheated at what?" Thomas asked.

"Thumb war," Alby and Newt said in unison.

"Just one more rematch, okay?" Alby asked.

"You already had three 'one more's."

"One more."

"Fine!"

"You guys really don't wanna give Thomas the tour, do ya?" Chuck asked.

"Slim it; we're trying to concentrate," Alby snapped. He and Newt turned and faced each other, squaring their shoulders and extending their right hands. "One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!"

"This looks motherfucking intense," Thomas observed. Both boys shot him dirty looks and continued with their thumb war. It was very intense, but sadly one-sided; Alby was terrible at thumb wars. Newt won in a matter of seconds.

"Aha! Now go give the Greenie the bloody tour!"

"No fair..." Alby muttered.

"Come on, Chuck," Newt dragged the other boy away and left Thomas and Alby alone.

"Alright, let's get this over with," said Alby.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Thomas asked. Like, seriously. This guy was a motherfucking jerk.

"I don't," Alby said, a little too quickly. "You're annoying and stupid, that's all."

"You're too honest."

"You asked me a question! Okay, so this is the shuck Glade. Out there is the shuck Maze. Over in that corner is the shuck Bloodhouse; that's the shuck Homestead; there's the shuck Gardens; those are the shuck Deadwoods."

"You really like the word shuck, don't you?" Thomas asked, casting around for something that would make him sound intelligent.

"And you really like the word motherfucker," said Alby. "Which you're gonna hafta stop, 'cuz it don't sound right."

"But I don't wanna," Thomas protested, "I like my motherfucking curse words."

"But I motherSHUCKing don't, and I'm the shuck leader, so I can make you..." The rest of Alby's words were cut off in an insanely loud alarm that started sounding.

"MotherFUCKING fire drill!" Thomas announced, but Alby clearly couldn't hear him over the racket. So Thomas held his hands over his ears and sank down into the fetal position on the grass. Alby ran off somewhere. Motherfucker.

Thomas eventually got up and ran over to where everyone else - literally everyone else - was gathered around the elevator where he had climbed up the day before.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, jumping up and down to see. Unfortunately, it didn't work - he wasn't tall enough.

"It is a girl," came the voice from the elevator the day before. Thomas groaned at the pause between 'it' and 'is.'

"What the shuck is a girl?" one boy asked.

"Cooler than you," another replied.

"No, they're not!"

"Duuuuuuude, you don't even know what a girl is!"

Thomas veered away from the barbaric talking and got down on his hands and knees to crawl up to the front. Newt and Alby were placing a girl down on the grass.

She was one sexy motherfucker. She was tall and slim with perfect curves, and her skin was pale, smooth, exquisite, and flawless. Her hair was a wavy, tar black flowing across the ground. The only issue was that she was dead.

"Thomas, come here," someone called. Thomas walked - crawled - forward in a trance, his mouth hanging open. A bit of drool dribbled from his lips.

"Do you recognize this girl?" Alby was saying. It took a few moments for the words to make their way into Thomas' brain, but he shook his head.

"She's hot," he grunted.

"That's bloody great, isn't it?" Newt said. Thomas didn't pick up on the sarcasm as Newt added, "She's dead."

"I'm not dead!" the girl shouted. Thomas was transfixed by her heart-shaped pink lips. "Everything's gonna motherfucking change!" Then she fell back on the ground, her eyelids fluttering open to expose beautiful sparkling blue eyes. She stuck her fist in the air.

"There's a note," Newt took a piece of paper from her hand, then laid it out on the ground for everyone to read. The note read:

_shes da lastest one_

_ever_

_so haha motherfuckers_

_good luck on repopulating the world!_

"What the shuck?"

"Thomas?" Alby was saying. With great effort, Thomas ripped his eyes from the girl.

"Huh?"

"What do you have to do with all this?"

"Nothing!" Thomas protested. Two boys, one already with a white wizard's beard even though he was only fourteen, had gone up and were 'listening to the girl's heartbeat.' They were probably thinking about that note in the wrong way, Thomas decided. Motherfuckers!

"Coincidence, is it," Alby said, "That you and her and the note all use the word 'motherfucker' instead of 'mothershucker'?"

"Motherfucker is just better, that's all," said Thomas. "And she knows that, 'cuz... 'cuz she's hot." The two boys had taken the girl and were dragging her along the ground towards the old run-down shack Alby had called Homestead. Thomas longed to run after them and pick up the girl and get down to the whole repopulation shit, but he had more important things to think about. Like the fact that Gally was coming up right behind him.

"I don't like her," Gally muttered. "Too many adjectives in one sentence."

"We don't need to bloody hear about it, Gally."

"Yes, you do! Honestly, are you all blind to the complete overuse of adjectives?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Newt said, coming to Thomas' defense, "But Alby and I are about to interrogate the Newbie here, so just go back to your job, okay?"

"But..."

"I don't want to hear it."

"But this happens all the time!" Gally protested.

"No, it doesn't."

"It does! How else do you get fifty people in two years?"

"They come once a month..." Alby also joined into the conversation. Several people stayed around to watch the argument.

"There have been approximately twenty-four months so far!" Gally said. "And people die all the time, too! So how?"

"I don't..."

"There were a ton of people here to start out with," Newt supplied.

"You weren't even there!"

"Yes, I was."

"You weren't!"

"How would you know?"

"You're inconsistent!"

"Gally..."

"You're standing on the wrong foot!"

"No, I'm not, Gally! Now go away or I'll throw you into the Box!" Newt shouted.

Gally huffed and stomped away, followed by the crowd of onlookers. Thomas watched him go, then turned back to Newt and Alby.

"What was that about interrogating me? And what the motherfuck was Gally talking about?" Thomas asked, making sure to put some anger behind his words.

"Not helping yourself there," Newt said, "Vocabulary-wise, I mean. That girl, her note? They both used your funny version of 'shuck.'"

"I know," said Thomas. "Alby just said that."

"You sure you don't know that girl?" Alby asked.

"Yes. I do not know that girl. I really wish I knew that girl, though," said Thomas.

"But you don't?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"Are you... very very positive?"

"Motherfucking yes!" Thomas yelled. "I don't know her, I've never seen her before, okay?"

"Just making sure," Alby said. He turned to Newt, "We should probably go see what Jeff and Clint are doing." The two of them left, Newt limping on his right foot - funny, Thomas hadn't noticed that before. Oh, well. He needed to motherfucking think.

A huge roar from his stomach reminded Thomas that he was hungry. A really bad smell coming from his ass reminded him that he'd crapped his pants while he was in the elevator. He wondered if anyone else had smelled it and just didn't tell him.

Thomas made his way over to the kitchens. He was really starting to feel at home here in the Glade.

"Thomas! Thomas!"

"Fuck off, Chuck," Thomas said automatically. Fortunately, the boy running up to him actually was Chuck. It would be rather embarrassing if he wasn't.

"I made you a sandwich," Chuck said.

"Give me that," Thomas grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite. "What the motherfuck is this shit!?"

"Turkey meat?" Chuck suggested. "Mayonnaise? Or... I think I added some raw potatoes in there, to give it flavor, you know?"

"Get... away... from me!" Thomas yelled. Disgusted, he threw the sandwich to the ground and ran out to the forest of trees called the Deadheads.

It was really dark in there. Thomas kept running - he was in really good shape in addition to being a motherfucking genius - for five whole minutes until his knees buckled and he barfed from overexertion. Then he crawled on his hands and knees until he reached what looked like a graveyard. Maybe he would die here.

Crunch. Crunch. Thomas jumped at the noise. Was someone there?

"Is someone there?" Thomas called. "I tell you, I'm not real easy to scare. Really." He quickly curled up in the fetal position to mask any trembling.

"I'm gonna kill you, shank!" came a voice. Thomas had barely looked up when someone had jumped on him. Thomas pulled his hands in front of his beautiful face to protect it while his attacker kicked him in the groin and ripped out chunks of his hair. There was a nasty crack as Thomas' arm was pulled back. Then the boy grabbed the bone now sticking out of Thomas' arm and tried desperately to yank it free, all the while biting Thomas' stomach, chest and shoulders.

"Ben!" Alby's voice sounded. "Ben, stop it! That's not nice!"

"Aw, he'll be fine!" the boy on top of Thomas called back, his words a bit muffled due to the face that he was ripping off several of Thomas' fingers with his teeth. "He's a protagonist."

"Ben, get off him! Now! I mean it!" Alby yelled. There was a thud as Alby kicked the boy Ben off of Thomas, who scrambled away, whimpering in pain.

Now Thomas could get a good look at Ben. The boy was naked down to a neon pink speedo. His veins were green and stuck out of his skeletal frame, and his eyes were BIG. Like, motherfucking alien big. And they were scary.

"I will kill you!" Ben yelled. "You are a Gary Stu!"

"A what?"

"An UGLY Gary Stu!" Ben said, sounding slightly hysterical. "Kill him, Alby, kill him!" He suddenly pulled a knife from out of his speedo.

"Where the hell did you get that, shank?" Alby asked.

"My PENIS!" Ben screamed.

"You'll have to stop cursing, or else I'm gonna shoot you," said Alby. Thomas looked at him. He was wearing a green shirt and super tight green tights, with a pointed hat with a feather in it. He was also holding a bow, ready to shoot.

"Shoot him!" Ben yelled, pointing at Thomas. "He started it! He was being a Gary Stu!"

"You have three seconds to start walking back to Homestead," Alby said.

"I don't wanna! Clint's beard was tickling me!"

"One."

"A, B, C, D, E..."

"Two."

"I just had sex! And it felt..."

"Three!" Alby let the arrow fly; it hit Ben in the groin. Ben screamed and started writhing on the ground. Blood pooled around him until he lay still. Alby turned to Thomas.

"You look pretty shucked up."

"Yeah," Thomas managed.

"Let's get you back to Homestead."

Thomas managed to get up, examining his injuries. He was missing half a finger on one hand, and a splintery white bone, drenched in blood, was sticking out of his other arm. He retched again, even though he'd already done so on his run over here.

Unfortunately, both Med-jacks were busy with the girl, so Alby called Newt and Chuck over to help with Thomas' arm.

"Okay, Chuck, you hold down his arms - his torso, and I'll hold down his legs, and Newt, you can just yank that bone back into place, okay?" Alby explained while Thomas lay groaning on the ground.

"Why me?" Newt demanded.

"'Cuz I had to give him the tour, that's why!"

"No offense, shouldn't we wait for the Med-jacks?" Chuck asked.

"Well, we've got to stop the bleeding at some point," Alby reasoned, "And I don't think that should wait until tomorrow..."

"Ssshh, guys, he's already asleep," Chuck whispered.

"Really? Is this shank bloody incapable of feeling pain?" Newt said, "How the shuck does he just..."

"Well, throw a blanket on him or something, and Jeff and Clint can have a look at him tomorrow," Alby shrugged. He really was busy, being in charge of fifty teenage boys. "I've got to check on that girl."

"Can I come?" Chuck asked excitedly.

"No, shank, you can't. She might have some disease, and you don't want to catch it," Alby said. "Just stay here and make sure the grass doesn't get blood poisoning."

"You shanks have really bad medicine," Newt muttered as he and Alby left.

**Reviews? This is not my best writing, and that coupled with caffeine overdose at 12:00 at night... well... you get the idea. Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long hiatus! I'm trying to post it one day at a time, but then I decided, screw it, the Banishment is taking too long to write, so that'll be it's own little chapter. I am trying to go in chronological order, but I don't have the books, so I wasn't sure exactly when Thomas met Minho... anyway, enjoy!**

"Thomas? Thomas, it's time to get up now," Chuck was saying softly. Thomas made a few guttural moaning noises and rolled over, using his arm to block the sunlight. "Thomas?"

"Is he seriously not bloody awake yet?" Newt. Thomas moaned a few more times to show he was in agony - maybe then the second-in-command would give him some motherfucking rest.

"Newt! Don't kick him!" Chuck said suddenly.

"I'm not going to kick him," Newt replied. "But it's two in the afternoon, about time... Thomas!"

"I'm sleeping, motherfucker!" Thomas shouted. "And my arm hurts!" he added. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he vaguely remembered _something_ happening to his arm. Maybe Newt would remember...

"My eyes hurt from having to look at you," Chuck shot back. "Hey, Newt? You remember that idea Alby had yesterday about spoon-feeding him klunk?"

"That's not going to work, smartass," Thomas groaned.

"Thomas, get up or I swear I will step on your supposedly broken arm."

"So? You probably weigh less than Chuck, and he rolled on top of me last night... nearly suffocated me..."

"I did not! You were dreaming!"

"Chuck, go stand on Thomas' arm for me, will you? The one over his eyes..."

Thomas cringed and, wincing, used his wrist to push himself into a sitting position. He had a vague feeling that his fingers were supposed to be in pain, too. "Goddamn, Newt, since when did you get to be so sadistic?"

"Since you didn't wake up," Newt responded lightly, pulling Thomas to his feet. "I let you sleep in thirteen hours, shank."

"Sure as hell doesn't feel like it," Thomas said, rubbing the crusts out of his eyes.

"Way to be bloody grateful," Newt snapped. "Come on, you'll be trying out new jobs today, starting with the Bloodhouse."

"But I'm hungry."

"Can I take Thomas down to get something to eat?" Chuck suggested.

"No, Chuck; actually, you're supposed to be at your own job right now."

"Yeah, but I got bored, so..."

"You're not allowed to do that," Newt said.

"You do!"

"Second-in-command is a very loose term. Now, do you want to go back, or will I have to give you that lecture on order again?"

"Fine."

"Come on, Newbie," Newt said as Chuck trudged away. "I don't think anyone has shown you where to use the bathroom or shower or change your clothes, have they? Shuck, I should never have left Alby to give you the tour alone..."

"Uh-huh," Thomas grunted. He still felt pretty out of it.

"How's your arm feeling?" Newt asked, clearly trying to make conversation. "And your fingers, was it? They were all bent backwards and such?"

"They were?" Thomas asked. "Which hand?" He held up both of them; all ten fingers were perfectly intact. "Are you sure it wasn't a toe?" he asked.

"Shuck!"

"What?" Thomas was really confused by now. Fingers? Backward? All he remembered was being attacked by that weirdo, and a lot of pain... really, it hurt... he probably needed, like, five band-aids to fix that up...

"Why does this only happen to me!?" Newt demanded.

"What happen to you? I thought you just said that my fingers..."

"Yeah, they bloody healed overnight, didn't they?"

"I guess..."

"Why am I the only one here in the whole shuck Glade on whom injuries leave any lasting damage?!"

Thomas was a little confused by the totally proper grammar, so he didn't get anything out except for a sort of grunting sound. Newt just shook his head and told Thomas to shower, get changed and eat breakfast for the first time in his entire memory.

Despite the fact that they lived in a community of teenage boys with very limited food supplies, there were still excellent culinary delights on the menu. Thomas wolfed down five eggs, sunny side up (note: he didn't actually cook the eggs), a banana, and two glasses of milk before making his way back to where Newt hopefully hadn't gotten bored and left.

"... never went through the Changing, did you?" a voice was saying, just as Thomas was about to go outside. Thomas froze in his tracks. It was Gally. _Fucking motherfucker. Doesn't he have work to do?_

"No." That was Newt.

"That's funny," Gally responded, "usually it's just us who notice things like that..."

"No, shanks who've been through the Changing just start harping on about grammar and adjectives all the time, like they can see them in the air. You don't _notice._.."

"Not everyone, maybe. I do. I notice everything."

"No, you don't."

"You wanna bet?"

"I don't have time for this right now."

"You're the one who started talking to me," Gally said. "About Thomas' arm..."

"He should be here any minute," Newt said, "You can see for yourself. The bone was bloody sticking out, Gally - that's not something that's supposed to heal overnight."

"No, it's not," Gally agreed.

"But he's not different," Newt went on, "The runners always pull muscles and stuff when they're out in the Maze, and it never affects _them_. And you - that Griever crushed your hand when you got stung - you were all better after the Changing."

"It did? Guess you're special, then - funny, coming from someone so inconsistent."

"Gally..."

"No, I'm serious. You're only actually limping half the time, and it only gets in the way a third the time of that."

"You do what, stalk me or something?"

"No! Why would I stalk you?"

"Well, you seem to know so much about me..."

Thomas wisely chose that exact awkward moment to open the door and shout, "Hey, guys! What was that about a bone sticking out?" He looked around. "I don't see any bones. Wait... was there one sticking out of the sandwich meat?"

"No..."

"Oh. Okay, well, whose bone was sticking out?" Thomas looked worriedly from Newt to Gally - or rather, he attempted to share a sympathetic look with Newt before turning to Gally and masking a laugh.

"Yours," Newt snapped.

"Really?" Thomas asked, intrigued. Did Newt know about something that happened before he lost his memory? "Which one?"

"Your arm. Um... which arm was it, Newt?"

"Not sure."

"Either way, it looks perfectly shuck fine now, doesn't it?"

"It does?" Thomas asked. He stuck out both his arms in front of him like a zombie. They looked pretty much the same, except one of them - his bad arm - hurt. Like a lot. "Oooh, ow!" Thomas whined.

"I'm honestly not sure if that was sarcasm or not," Newt said. "Come on - you're going to work in the Bloodhouse today, remember?"

"But... but..." Thomas stammered. Work? Bloodhouse? What did they _do_ to little boys in the Bloodhouse? What's more, Newt was expecting him to work?

"But what?"

"But... my arm hurts," Thomas explained.

"So does my ankle, and I'm still doing stuff, aren't I? And shut up, Gally, I wasn't talking to you."

Despite Thomas' protests, each lamer than the last, Newt brought him over to the Bloodhouse and left him in the hands of Winston, a half-hobbit fellow who towered three feet tall. However, probably in response to bullying about his height, Winston had bulging muscles, a pimply face, and a sadistic nature. He enjoyed his job way too much, in Thomas' opinion. Like, Winston didn't curl up in the fetal position and cry over the lost lives even once.

"So, hold the pig like this..." Winston was demonstrating. Thomas didn't do what he was told, however - instead, he spent the hour of 'demonstration time' walking on his hands.

Winston probably used to be a serial killer, Thomas decided. Like, they were all probably criminals, and the Glade and the Maze was some gigantic prison of theirs. But what government was stupid enough to spend so much money on their prisoners, and yet not supply them with the means to correctly heal so much as a broken ankle? More importantly, how could fifty entire teenage boys be criminals? Such a thing had surely never happened in the history of the world.

"You're hopeless, Newbie," Winston decided after about five minutes in the same room with Thomas.

"No, I'm not," Thomas protested. "I have every hope that we will get out of here and I will never have to work again."

"That's exactly what I mean! You're hopeless at this. Get out."

"Okay," was Thomas' epic comeback of the year. He stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry for extra measure. Winston just rolled his eyes as Thomas walked away.

Thomas didn't know what to do after leaving the Bloodhouse, so he prepared to walk around aimlessly. However, he didn't get much done, as he was distracted by a boy running through one of the Maze doors.

"Hey! Look! Alby! It's another Newbie!" Thomas shouted, running over to the boy.

"It's Runner, shuckface," the boy said, panting. He was also sitting on the ground, Thomas realized. Was he tired - he did look like he'd run one hundred miles - or was he about to go into the fetal position?

"Oh. Hey, Run..."

"Slim it and get me some shuck water, won't you?" the boy interrupted.

"Maybe if you ask nicely," Thomas snapped. "Say the magic word..."

"Now!"

"Wrong magic word." Or was that another part of the Glader slang? Thomas couldn't really remember.

"Dude..."

"Alby!" Thomas shouted over his shoulder. "A little help here!" He knew that Alby couldn't stand him, while Newt was at least willing to put up with him, but then again, Newt had made him go watch other people WORK...

"Water?" the boy on the ground reminded him.

"What's your name, then, if it's not 'Runner'?" Thomas asked, ignoring the request.

"Minho. Who're you?"

"Thomas. I'm new."

"Yeah, I can tell."

"Hey," Alby finally ran up. "Minho, what're you doing back?"

"I was hungry," Minho shrugged.

"And you, what, ate your first fifteen sandwiches?"

"Seventeen, actually. And I was thirsty. But Alby, you gotta hear this..."

"I'm listening."

"I want water!" Minho shouted. "Then I'll tell you. It was really interesting."

"Okay..." Alby said uncertainly. "Are you sure this isn't a side effect of getting stung?" Thomas heard him mutter.

"I want water," Minho repeated, pouting. "I'm not getting up until I get water."

"Fine! Thomas, go get him some water," Alby said.

"Where?"

"You're not gonna get out of it like that," Minho said, "Believe me, I've tried."

"No, Minho, this shank's really stupid," Alby said. "He might actually not know." He turned to Thomas. "Well?"

"You're mean!" Thomas pouted.

"Yeah? I'm in charge, too."

"I'll... I'll thumb war you for it!" Thomas said, just grasping at strings now.

"No!"

"Come on, Alby, don't be embarrassed by your skills," Minho said, now coughing from dehydration. "Or lack thereof."

"Urgh! You two are hopeless! Fine, I'll go get you some slinthead shuckfaced water," Alby snapped.

"Don't take it out on the water, man," Minho muttered, but Alby had already run off.

"What're you doing out there?" Thomas asked. "I thought it wasn't allowed to go out in the Maze. Well, I never actually asked, but no one was going out there, so I decided it wasn't worth the effort of walking all the way to the walls, but then... is it fun? Oooh, is there an amusement park at the end after you figure out the Maze? Is there..."

"Slim it," Minho snapped. "Shuck, why do you slinthead Newbies ask so many shuck questions?"

"You just asked one." Thomas felt bad for the boy's lack of vocabulary. He, Thomas, would have said, _Damn, why do you motherfucking Newbies ask so many fucking questions_, and that wouldn't have sounded half as repetitive.

"Shuck you, then," Minho said.

"But seriously, why were you in the Maze?"

"I was in the Maze 'cuz I'm a shuck Runner, ain't I?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Runners go out in the Maze and try to solve it," Minho snapped. "Now slim it. Be quiet. I don't want to hear your stupid shuck voice."

"I…" Thomas tried to come up with a better insult than "you're mean," but came up with a blank. He repented by satisfying Minho's request.

At long last, Alby came back with not a bottle, but a plastic cup of water. He was walking very slowly, eyes on the brim of the cup to make sure none of the water spilled over.

"Here's your shuck water," he thrust the cup at Minho.

"Gimme! It's mines!" Minho grabbed it and tilted the bottom up, succeeding in spilling more water over his face and shirt then into his mouth.

"Now tell me what you were gonna say!" Alby returned.

"Okay, fine… should Thomas hear? He looks pretty innocent…"

"I don't care. Just spit it out."

"Patience, grasshopper. I saw….wait for it…. I saw two Grievers…. and they were shucking," Minho said dramatically, a look of fear emerging on his face from the memory alone.

"Ha-ha. Is that really your excuse for coming back early?" Alby snapped. "I told you, the TV is for your days off, not when you get bored of Running."

"There's a TV?" Thomas asked hopefully.

"Was," Alby responded. "Ben threw it down the Box Hole this morning. We're going to have to Banish him."

"WHAT? Why did no one tell me about this?!" Minho demanded, while Thomas started chanting, "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

"Anyway," Alby said pointedly, "Do you have a real excuse now, or are you just going to go with two Grievers shucking? Like, seriously, I don't fall for klunk like that anymore."

"He used to," Minho explained, "And so did the leader guy before him. They'd come running out every single time…" He sighed reminiscently. "But I really did see it this time, Alby. For reals. Swearsies."

"Wasn't the deal that if you kept on coming back for no reason, you would get to be a Slopper for the rest of the day?" Alby asked.

"'Swearsies'?" said Thomas incredulously.

"Yeah, swearsies, mothershucker. You got a problem with that?" Minho turned away before Thomas could stutter "Uh...no."

"Anyway, Alby, you can just come out with me tomorrow and see," Minho said, as if that resolved the matter.

"No, Minho! I am _not_ leaving Newt in charge so I can go see Griever porn," Alby snapped. "And has it ever occurred to you that the Grievers might have stopped shucking twenty-four hours later?"

"First of all, it's _live_ Griever porn," Minho said, "Second of all, they're half machine. They have all the energy in the world - just like sparkly vampires. They'll keep shucking. Third of all, if you don't want to come, I'll just have to take Newt instead."

"Why would Newt even want to see live Griever porn?"

"Dude, who doesn't want to see live Griever porn? We should take the whole shuck Glade, really, but then you'd go all psycho 'cause we're not working our butts off for once..."

"Yeah!" Thomas said enthusiastically. He had managed to keep his mouth shut - Minho and Alby might have wanted to relieve the details of the Griever porn in private - but this was too much. He really wanted to see that Griever porn.

"No!" Alby said heatedly. _God, what's the guy's fucking problem?_

"Then I'm gonna..."

"You're not gonna do nothing, Minho. You're gonna go and work with the Sloppers, and then you're gonna come and help with that Banishment thing we've got to do. Ben broke the TV, remember?"

That did it. All thoughts of Griever porn were washed from both Thomas and Minho's minds as they realized the true meaning of what Alby had said. No TV. No recording the Griever porn to watch it later. Motherhell, that motherfucker deserved to die.

**Review? Review, my twenty or so people who have bothered to read the second chapter (probably'll have about four read this one...)**


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas somehow got away with procrastinating the rest of the day. Then evening began to fall, and the doors would shut soon. Somehow Alby and Newt had gotten word of the Banishment out to the entire Glade, so everyone showed up at one of the huge doors (they had names, the doors. Something about East and Left and Up. Thomas couldn't remember then all).

"I hereby pronounce that the mothershucker Ben is gonna get Banished for attacking Thomas the newbie. I mean, that slinthead really hurt him. He also broke the TV. Bring out the victim! Newt, bring out the Pole!"

The two med-jacks came forth, dragging the limp figure of Ben between them. Newt walked to some little shed that just so happened to exist, went inside, did something that made a huge crashing noise, and called, "We don't have the Pole!"

"Yes, we do, we used it just last Banishing!" Alby called.

"I know, and we threw it out into the Maze just as the doors were closing," Newt replied. "So it's gone."

"Then, I don't know, find another big stick."

"That's what I'm doing."

Ben turned his head from Alby to Newt in the shed, and said, "You know, if you guys can't find a stick, maybe I don't have to be Banished..."

"Slim it. You broke the shuck TV!" someone yelled.

"It was an accident!" Ben protested.

"Yeah, well, the screen's cracked and all the buttons are ripped out and the wires are split... it's broken, and it's not gonna work again. You deserve everything you're gonna get and worse," Alby said, looking very magnificent from the rock he was standing on.

Newt emerged from the shed, holding a mop which he dramatically ripped the mop part off of as he walked. He handed Alby the pole, muttering, "You know, the TV shouldn't be that big of a deal... we never watch it, anyway, and it's mostly just a distraction..."

"Yeah, we're Banishing him for hurting what's-his-face, the new guy," Alby replied.

"Great show of sympathy. But Thomas isn't even hurt."

"Quit it with your shuck logic, Newt! I don't care! The shank deserves to die, and I'm..."

"Using any and all excuses you can come up with?"

"Dude, slim it. Why do you even want to save him? He broke the TV!"

"He's still recovering from the Changing, Alby! It's not fair!"

At that point, Alby decided to do the smart thing. Well, two smart things, really. One was to growl, "Shut it. I'm the leader and you're being shuck logical so I say shut it!" The other thing was to pull out a leather collar, do something in the form of connecting it to the mop pole, and begin a slow and dramatic walk up to where Ben was held.

Ben immediately started protesting.

"It's not my fault, Alby! Please don't kill me! I'm your friend! I made you cake when you were sick, and Frypan threw boiling oil on my head for it! Don't kill me!"

"You broke the TV!" Alby snarled.

"But I've got the Changing!"

"The Changing isn't a disease!"

"Yes, it is! It makes you go nuts!"

"Too many diseases make you go nuts..." someone in the crowd muttered.

Alby forced the collar over Ben's head, then called for the Keepers. A whole bunch of people Thomas didn't recognize and Minho ran forward to grab parts of the mop handle. Despite Ben's mad protests of "Don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me dont kill me" ("You forgot the apostrophe," Gally muttered), they started to shove him out the door. Just as he was fully in the Maze (now sobbing in earnest), the Doors began to close. The Keepers threw the mop out into the Maze right before the Doors closed, trapping Ben out of the Maze forever.

Chuck was silent as he and Thomas laid down to sleep. Thomas felt sick to his stomach. Seriously, there was _snot_ coming out of the guy's nose.

**This one's really, really short, I know. Still review. Please? I'll give you a pancake...**


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